Through The Years
by PearlyJammer
Summary: Logan learns the truth about his past from an unexpected source. Chapter SEVEN IS NEW!
1. Prologue

Through the Years: Prologue Series: Through the Years 1/25  
  
Author: Autumn E-mail: autumnleaves@autumnpenguins.com  
  
Summary: Logan gets information about his past from an unlikely source.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category/Pairing: Angst, W/R, Creed  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing except the story.  
  
Archive: Autumn's Penguin Emporium, DDFH others please ask first.  
  
Author's notes: The historical content of the upcoming chapters is for the most part accurate. Loose portrayals of historical figures will be noted. The events are real, however astounding and at times horrifying, I assure you they did happen. Thanks to Karen and Jonas for their hard work and excellent suggestions on how to make this story work. I owe you one, or three...  
  
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Westchester New York  
  
The not so distant future..... On a hot summer's day the Wolverine was doing the unimaginable, he was at a picnic. Not the most manly time-waster, but as he was in the company of his best friend and the most important person in his life, he didn't particularly care. Marie was stretched out on the green and blue checkered blanket dozing lightly while Logan watched over her. He was currently debating the merits of lying down beside her, when a sudden bout of weariness hit him. He surrendered to it and carefully arranged himself around Marie, so as not to appear " too friendly" yet to the casual observer it would be apparent that the two were an item. Thought of how to broach that subject lazily ran through his mind as he fell asleep. Logan was snoring by the time said casual observer stealthily locked his sights in and shot the darts at the sleeping pair. He swiftly stalked over and bound their wrists and ankles in adamntium chains. Victor Creed drove the vehicle from the clearing and deposited the Couple in the hollowed out back of the old UPS van. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself before hopping into the drivers seat and turning towards what was the future that would inevitably unite the three occupants of the truck. Fate had a goddamn wicked sense of humour. Three Hours Later........... The dreams again. Men in masks, liquid, the slashing of a knife, Laughter, champagne glasses clinking. It never ended, He tried to move, but couldn't. Trapped in the hell that was his own memory. He struggled towards consciousness, knowing that was the only way to end the terror. He broke through and realized where he was. Panic registered in his brain as he felt the familiar cuffs, and saw the sterile and clinical surroundings that one only sees in a laboratory. A little further off he saw Marie! Thankfully she wasn't cuffed but was lying in a hospital bed, apparently still asleep. The sound of a door opening snapped his head to his left. A low growl began when Logan caught sight of who it was. "What the fuck do ya want with Marie?" Logan growled out. "Nice to see ya too, runt" an amused Sabertooth shot back. "You touch her, I will fuckin' kill you. I swear to God, I will fuckin' rip you up so good your healing factor won't even know where to start." "Funny you should mention that. Given your family history and all." Creed sneered. "You know somethin' you ain't tell me fuckhead? Let me out of these things." "Does it creep you out? Make you uncomfortable?" Creed asked with genuine Curiosity. "No I enjoyed being fuckin' cuffed up like a lab rat. Let me out." An angry Wolverine commanded. "For what I'm about to tell you, I think its best you stay cuffed." "Cut the damn theatrics, what the hell is going on. And why is Marie in here?" "The girl's here cause I know she's the only one that'll be able to calm ya down after what I tell you." Creed explained. "Why ain't you out with Buckethead?" Victor's face darkened momentarily before he cleared his throat and answered simply, "I had a change of heart." From over in the corner, the two voices, Logan's considerably louder than the other, awoke Marie. Sabertooth and Logan were in the same room, and they weren't trying to rip the other's head off. She blinked and pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "Logan? What's going on?" "I don't know Marie. The furball here apparently kidnapped us." "Fine, if you don't want to know about your past, keep being an asshole." Creed bit out angrily. "Hey dipshit! You ruined our picnic, kidnapped us and you're seriously pissing me off. Now, tell Logan what's going on." Marie demanded. Not wishing to piss off a woman that could rip his head off as easily as look at him Victor wisely complied. "Okay. Erik, found some old medical journals and diaries from an English doctor named Rosemahn. Logan and myself are mentioned in them. It was through Logan's past that I discovered my own. This doctor used Logan as a test subject on human memory. He suppressed Logan's true memories and implanted false ones. He later went back in and erased the false memories along with the original ones. Erik copied the formula used to retrieve lost memories. He used it on me, and I know who I am." "No fuckin' way." Logan growled at the bigger man. "Yes fuckin' way. Look, I can give you your memories back. Your past. Everything you wanted to know about Weapon X, and even before that. It's your life Logan, fuckin' think about it for Christ's sake." Logan took a deep breath. His past. He'd spent sixteen years looking for it, and it was right under the overgrown housecat's nose. He'd stopped looking when he realized as long as he had Marie, his past didn't matter. But still, she deserved to know what she was getting herself into, right? "Ok." he grunted. Sabertooth came at him with a needle and silently plunged it into his vein. He lost consciousness and the vision began... 


	2. Origins from Hell

Disclaimer in part one  
  
Previous parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com  
  
Author's Notes: This story is set in Whitechapel District in London. The Whitehapel killer a.k.a. Jack the Ripper made his final killing in Miller's Court on November 9th 1888. To this date the murders are still unsolved. Several Ripperologists believe Jack the Ripper was also responsible for several deaths in the area between 1885-1888. I have chosen to go with that timeline in this story. The title of this story comes from what is widely believed to be an authentic note from the Ripper to a London citizen. The return address read 'From Hell'. This story has nothing to do with the Wolverine comic 'Origins.' The historical content of this chapter is very real. The people mentioned in this story with * by them are loosely based on real people. A 'Doss house' is a place where the unfortunates of the city could find a bed for four pence a night. Miller's Court was one such place.  
  
Many thanks: To: Karen and Jonas   
  
Victor's Lab,  
  
Present day "How long will he be out?" Marie inquired "Don't know. Erik said I was usually out for about an hour after I was hit with whatever came up in my mind." Victor answered. "Why are you doing this? I mean, no offence, but you did try to kill me once." She stated matter-of-factly. "It's a long story. But since Logan ain't gonna be talkin' for awhile I might as well tell you." It started back a long time ago. Before Erik or Charles was born... WhiteChapple District, London  
  
October 30th, 1888 Nicolas Logan Adams trotted down the deserted street. Due to his lack of a raincoat the eleven year old was soaked from head to toe. That fact didn't bother him in the least, for his mind was elsewhere. His pockets were filled with the loot of the day. Pick pocketing had been lucrative and the young criminal was nearly beaming with pride. With his mother long since dead, and a father who was frequently gone Nicky had learned to fend for himself, He'd been a professional pickpocket since the tender age of four. Over the past few years his father had been gone for nights at a time, and the young boy's need to eat had turned him to a life of petty crime. The boy turned onto Broad Street and made his way to the `tiny cold water flat he shared with his father. Minutes later Nicky pushed the wooden door open and entered the building. There were no ashes in the fireplace, which meant his father hadn't been home and most likely wouldn't be for at least the rest of the night. Nicky sighed in disappointment and was suddenly too tired to do anything else but sleep. He stripped off his sopping clothing and crawled into bed. Nicky fell into a deep sleep as the devil of London struck again. ********* Nicolas woke in the early morning light. He dressed quickly in the frigid air and set out for the bakery. The streets were alive with men and women chatting excitedly. His curiosity piqued, young Nicolas crept forward toward a group of men. "Ay Thomas from Dellsville said he got the poor lass at Hanbury Street last night. Scotland Yard's got five inspectors on it! With five inspectors they ought to solve it soon eh?" the Irishman concluded. A booming voice joined the conversation. "Scotland Yard knows fuck-all! This bastard's been at it forever and they still don't have a bloody clue!" the owner of the voice bit out. " Jesus Jacob, can't ya watch your filthy mouth? There are ladies present!" his companion exclaimed. "They're not ladies. They're whores. Could be number four if they don't repent of their dirty ways." Jacob concluded. "Five." "What?" Jacob asked incredulously. " I said five, He's killed four so far, one more would be five." The well- build man finished. "So I was off by one. A dead whore don't count for nothin'" Jacob humphed and stalked off. The other men quickly dispersed and William Adams caught sight of his young son. "How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough father." The little rascal said before launching himself into his father's arms. William took his son by the hand and began walking home.  
  
"You know it's not nice to eavesdrop on adults, Nicolas." "I know, but they was talkin' about the Ripper killings. Ain't nothin' more interesting around." He replied honestly. "Oh, so you think the brutal murders are interesting? We shall have to remedy that immediately. No son of mine will be gaggling like a goose about a lunatic." William stated in a tone that left no room for argument. He put the child down as they neared their home. Nicky was excited his father was home. He'd missed him the last few days. "Father, what do you do when you go away?" the child asked. "Business Nicky. I take care of business." William answered. "At night though? What sort of business takes place when the rest of the world's sound asleep?" Nicky persisted. "Unpleasant business. But someone has to see to it. Now enough of this talk, tell me what you have been up to lately. And what's this I hear about a certain Adams pick pocketing?" William asked as he closed the door.  
  
************ November 9th, 1888 Nicolas had been walking the streets all day. The youngster hadn't seen hide nor hair of his father since the breakfast they had shared over a week ago. Nicky had been kicked out of the flat, as his father had neglected to pay the landlord and the child was prowling the streets in search of a doss house. He came upon Miller's Court and inquired about a bed. The generally rude doorman, took pity upon the kid, and decided to help him. There was a bed available, as Mary Creed* hadn't bothered to pay the required four pence that night. The pair walked down the narrow alleyway to a room in the back. There was an old rag stuffed in the window and the door was closed. The man went over and banged on the door. "Mary Creed! Open up. Ya haven't paid your due, there's another customer waiting for this bed!" the doorman shouted. There was no answer to his demands, and the doorman cursed. "Hold on kid, I'll be back." Nicky simply nodded and stood still. A moment later, the door, which wasn't on the most reliable hinges crashed to the floor. Nicky stepped inside and was overpowered by the sight before him. A man was on his knees, carving on what looked like a big piece of meat. Closer inspection revealed it was in fact a body, and the carver was William Adams. Nicholas made a small noise in his throat that caught the attention of William. The man turned to his son and locked his eyes onto his face. His eyes were dilated and coal black, eyes that looked as though they were from Satan himself. Nicky turned and fled down the dark streets of London's East End. He was too shocked to do anything but keep running. Perhaps if he ran long enough and far enough he could forget what he saw. Forever. Victor's Lab  
  
Present Day. "The Metropolitan Police found the body the next morning. The doorman's was about ten feet away in the alley, with his throat slit. They also found a nine-year-old boy in the room, hiding underneath the bed. I'm that little boy." Victor finished with a pained expression. "Oh my God, Logan's father killed your mother?!" Marie empathized with the man. "No, OUR father killed my mother. Logan's my brother."  
  
TBC.. 


	3. Lowdown and Almost Out

  
  


** Author's notes:** The children's institute in this story is based on the "Boys House of Refuge" which existed in New York City at the turn of the century.

This chapter contains violence against children, be warned.   
  


**Many thanks:** To Karen and Jonas for all their help.

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Victor's Laboratory   
Present Day 

Marie sat spellbound as Victor concluded the tale of his and Logan's shared past. To her it at least partly explained Victor's compulsion to kill that he'd until recently shown. A conversation with Hank had long since convinced Marie that a person's childhood and early life experience set the foundation for what kind of behaviour they would exhibit as an adult. 

Victor had gotten up and was currently leaning over Logan. The facial contortions Logan expressed assured Victor that Logan was nearly finished processing the memory and would be conscious in a few minutes. Victor injected another dose into the IV drip he'd started in Logan's arm. He turned to face his other visitor and noticed a thoughtful expression on her pretty features. "What are you thinking about?" 

"Um, actually about how surreal this all is. I mean the first time we met you; you'd thrown a tree at Logan's truck. And now, you're helping Logan gain back what he's always wanted. Its kind of overwhelming to tell you the truth." Marie concluded. 

"Yeah, well I owe Logan a lot. My life in fact. I feel kinda bad about ya know, tryin' to kill him and shit before." 

"I'm not saying that trying to kill him, or helping to kill me was right, but um things were different then." Marie stated. "And um, I'm real interested in how you met Logan anyway, what's the story behind that?" 

"Well, after my mom died, and my fuckhead father disappeared, I was sent to live in a bunch of different places. When I was ten they transferred me to The Children's Institute in London.........." 

November 1889  
The Children's Institute   
London, England 

A drab and rundown brick building on the corner of Asher Avenue and Arlington Road was home to London's youngest unfortunates. Among them was a 12-year old boy named Nicholas Logan. He was a tall, lean youth with hard lines on his young features and piercing hazel eyes that practically glowed with pent up rage. Life hadn't treated him well. He'd been in and out of jail so many times, a judge had finally sent him to the Children's Institute in a last ditch effort to reform him. So far it had only made him more resentful of the people around him and he longed to be back on the streets. 

Upon his entry into the Institute, Nicolas had dropped his father's name and his childhood nickname and became known as Nicholas Logan. He also claimed he was an orphan, lest anyone discover his true monstrosity of a parent. The boy was paranoid about his father finding him, and convincing the authorities to release Nicolas back into his care. He wanted nothing to do with the man. To Nicolas, his father had died that on the November night one year ago when he'd inadvertently revealed himself to be the Whitechapel killer. 

Things didn't get any better for the boy. Since his arrival, he'd been the favourite of the guards to beat and torture. He was still bleeding from the last bout of torture three days ago, that had been particularly rough. A young guard by the name of Donaldson had thought it'd be particularly funny to take a piece of lead pipe and see how far up Nicolas' rear it would go. It was said his screams could be heard for hours afterwards. The nightmares of the event frequently woke him up, and he hadn't slept for more than four hours straight since the rape. 

He was beginning to understand why his father felt the need to kill. That thought terrified him more than anything the guards could do to him. He'd willingly take his own life before he ended up like his father. It was that belief that had led him to the bathroom, with a jagged piece of glass held over his wrist, prepared to end it all. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" a timid voice asked.   
Startled, Nicolas dropped the glass down the drain and whipped around to see who'd interrupted him. He saw a small boy, with sandy blonde hair and chestnut eyes. He was tiny, couldn't have been more than nine or ten.   
  


"Whadya want, runt?" The older boy bit out.   
  


" Just wanted to see what you were doing." The small boy said shyly. "I'm Victor. Who're you?"   
  


Nicolas thought about telling the kid anything. Then again Victor was so small and helpless, it's not like the kid could hurt him. "Nicolas."   
  


That brought a smile from Victor and a sense of de' ja vu to Nicolas. Where had he seen the kid before? The blonde hair, the brown eyes, something about them was very vaguely familiar. Pain. Terror. Brown. Blue. Ripper. Father. Death. The stream of thought shot through his brain and a sickening sense of recognition settled in his stomach. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, chastising himself for linking the young boy with the dead woman. Shaking himself into reality Nicolas crossed the bathroom and locked the door. He felt the boy's eyes tracking his every movement and he didn't like it. "What the hell are you looking at kid?" He snarled at the boy.   
  


Victor swallowed. "N-nothing. Just, you have it too." He spoke with a sadness that a ten year old should never know.   
  


"What are you bloomin' talking about?" an agitated Nicolas demanded.   
  


"This," the child whispered as he turned around.   
  


Nicolas noticed the back of Victor's nightshirt had a telltale spot of blood. Rage coursed through his veins. It started in his chest and spread outwards in a white heat, finally exploding from his hands. Victor gasped and pointed at Nicolas' arms. Three bone-shaped claws protruded between the nuckles of each hand. The rage dissipated and was quickly replaced by shock. 

With the change of emotions the bone-claws slid effortlessly back into Nicolas' forearms. The two boys watched in amazement as the wounds from the claws healed themselves before their eyes. "How did you do that?"   
  


Nicolas answered honestly "I don't know."   
  


Not wishing to discuss the subject of the mysterious claws anymore he changed the subject. "Who did that to you?" 

  
The boy dropped his eyes and shifted nervously. "I can't say, he'll kill me."   
  


"I won't let him."   
  


It came out as barely a whisper, "Donaldson."   
  


Nicolas didn't know where the rush of affection for the boy came from, but he didn't need to take the time to analyse the situation to realize that the boy was important to him.   
"Listen to me Victor, we're gonna get out of here."   
  


"You promise?"   
  


"I promise." 

Victor's Lab   
Present Day 

Logan awoke with a start. He opened his eyes and blinked. Marie was sitting right by him, with the keys to the cuffs in her hand. She uncuffed Logan and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. She didn't say anything; she just let him get what he needed out of having her near him. 

Marie wept for the terrible things that had been done to her beloved Logan. All that pain and suffering, and it was only the first twelve years of his life. Victor silently brought in a cart with food on it and left the couple. He'd told Marie earlier that there was a small bedroom and bathroom attached to the laboratory that they were welcome to use. 

Marie swayed backward and tugged on Logan's hand. Wordlessly he followed her, and they collapsed on the bed still in their clothing. Logan pulled Marie to him and buried his head on her chest. He snaked his arms around her waist and tried to escape the terrors of his recent discovery. She stroked his head and wordlessly comforted him. His past was terrible, there was no getting around that, but Marie was determined that no matter what happened, she would be there for Logan, she'd be the one to help him live through this. 


	4. Fled

* Disclaimer in part one *  
  
Previous Parts can be found at www.autumnpenguins.com *********  
  
Victor's Lab Present Day..  
  
Logan woke to the unfamiliar feel of Marie curled up to him. In sleep he had shifted himself so he was laying half on top of her with his arms curled around her protectively. His head was on her chest and he spent a few moments listening to the beating of her heart. He didn't understand why she hadn't yet left him. All he was was a broken man with memories of a terrifying childhood from over 100 years ago. It didn't add up. She was young and wonderful, she didn't deserve to be tied down by him and his baggage. He resolved to let her go just as soon as they got out of here. Marie stirred beneath him and Logan realized he should start at least physically trying to let her go. He loosened his grip on her and she unconsciously responded by trying to draw him closer to her. Logan gave up the fight and chastised himself for lacking the strength to push her away. A knock on the door jarred Logan from his thoughts and he turned towards the noise. "Yeah?" he asked softly, trying not to wake Marie. "There's a phone out here on the table. I figured you might want to call that professor of yours. There's food on the table for you and your girl," Victor stated. "Uh, thanks," Logan replied awkwardly. "Yeah, there's a number on there to reach me when you're ready to start again." Logan grunted in reply and turned his attention back to Marie. She woke and noticed the sad, haunted look in his eyes had increased by ten fold since this all began.  
  
"Hey, how are you doing?" Marie asked while she began rubbing his shoulder.  
  
"I dunno." Logan got up and retrieved the tray Vic had so kindly left outside. He handed the phone to Marie who called the mansion and Logan started fixing the bagels with cream cheese. He would have liked a more manly condiment like Tabasco, but he was too hungry to complain at this point. Marie wound up her conversation just as Logan finished with the food.  
  
"So?" he asked.  
  
"Well, the professor almost had a heart attack when he heard who we were with, but I assured him everything was all right. I made him promise not to tell the X-Men who we were with. Scott'd have the Blackbird out on our trail in no time." The southern girl grinned. Logan nodded stiffly and settled back onto the bed. He made no effort to move towards Marie like he normally did whenever she was nearby. She frowned and slid over by him.  
  
"Don't." Was all he said before jumping up.  
  
"Don't what?" she asked, clearly puzzled.  
  
"Don't get close to me Marie. You'll just get hurt."  
  
Marie sighed. She had expected Logan to try and push her away. He'd insist it was for her own good. When this was over, and he still tried to do the same thing, she'd have to crack him over the head with a bat and beat it into his metal-laced skull that she was with him for the long haul. For now she'd just humour him.  
  
"Come on Logan, Victor's probably waiting in the lab." Was all she said before leaving the room.  
  
Without a word, Logan followed her into the lab, toward his past. Victor had finished setting up the hospital bed and gestured for him to get on it. Logan did, and prepared for the slight sting of the needle that Victor slid into his arm. Ten seconds later, Logan was unconscious and Victor sat down at the table across from Marie. "How's he doing Rogue?" She sighed, "He's trying to push me away from him. Damn stubborn Canadian," A thoughtful look crossed her face, "or I guess he's a damn stubborn Englishman. Just doesn't have the same ring to it." Victor chuckled silently and laid his hand on top of Marie's in a comforting gesture. "You ready to hear more memories yet?" he gently inquired. She shook her head positively and Victor began. " Nicolas, was pretty fuckin' pissed off at the assholes that ran the Institute. So Nicolas, being Nicolas decided to do something about it................ February 1890  
  
Children's Institute  
  
London, England Nicolas had spent the last few months learning how to use his claws. He'd discovered that intense anger unleashed the deadly weapons that he now possessed. Adapting to them was, however, a bit of a challenge. The nine- inch blades were more than a little cumbersome and Nicolas had nicked himself more times than he cared to count. His remarkable healing ability apparently took care of that. Time after time, the boy's wounds would heal themselves and his skin would smooth over the area as if nothing had been there at all. Victor was not as lucky. The child endured beatings and rapes far more frequently than Nicolas. The guards seemed to get some sick pleasure out of beating the youngest and smallest of their charges. It pissed Nicolas off to a point that he had been planning an escape for Victor and himself as soon as possible. Nicolas had become quite adept at using shadows and corners to conceal his whereabouts as he followed the guards on their excursions. Occasionally the guards would wake everyone in the dormitory up and take one or two boys out of the room. They would then force the remaining children to watch the killing of innocence that was such an aphrodisiac to the hellish staff. One such night, as the men entered the room and took the kids out into the hall, Nicolas hid behind the doorway, waiting for the right moment to grab the guard who took Victor. Sure enough, the man dragged the sobbing boy out of the room and was about to enter the hallway. Nicolas whirled to the back of the guard and grabbed him by the back of the neck. Startled, the guard released Victor, and Nicolas slammed him into the wall.  
  
"Tell your friend to let go of that kid." The boy commanded.  
  
"Or you'll do what?" The guy sneered.  
  
*Snikt* "I'm not going to tell you again, asshole."  
  
"Craig, let 'em go," the guard stammered.  
  
"Victor, get your things, we're leaving." Nicolas told the boy in a soft tone before turning back to the man he held captive.  
  
"Where's Donaldson?" he barked out.  
  
"He-he's not here tonight, he's off."  
  
"Where does he live?" the young man questioned.  
  
"1013 Broad Street. Why?"  
  
"That's none of you're fucking business. Vic and I are leaving. Try to stop us, and I swear I will kill you." he hissed in a defiant tone.  
  
Nicolas released the guard and grabbed the stuffed knapsack he'd left near the bathroom in the hallway and loped off to find Victor. Later that night....... "Nicolas, where are we going to go?" Victor asked.  
  
"To take care of business, Vic. We're going to take care of business." Nicolas stated darkly.  
  
The pair made their way down the empty streets of London until they'd made it to the lower east end. Once there the two slipped into a darkened alley on Broad Street...... 


	5. All That You Can't Leave Behind

*** Disclaimer in Part one *** Previous Parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com The events in this chapter, as the ones before it are historically accurate. More detailed notes can be found at the bottom of the story.  
  
Many thanks: to Karen for the superb beta. ***************  
  
Victor's Lab:  
  
Present Day Logan had spent the entire night contemplating several things. His past, present, future, and how it all tied together. Victor had been able to give him what nobody had before which was his past. But now that he'd seen some of it, he honestly couldn't say if it was better left unsaid, or out in the open. He thanked God, Zeus, and Allah collectively for sending him Marie. Without her support, it would be impossible to undergo this journey. Turning his thoughts to Marie, he wondered how she saw him exactly. He envisioned himself getting down on one knee, popping the question, marrying her and having a couple of rug rats, but if she didn't feel the same, obviously it wouldn't work. Sure, it was early in the game for those thoughts, but just that fact he thought them had to account for something right? Too tired to think anymore he pulled her closer and enjoyed her soothing presence before drifting into a light sleep. Tomorrow would bring more shadows and darkness. He needed to conserve his strength for the coming mental anguish. Upon exiting the back room, Logan and Marie found Victor pacing restlessly, a frown creasing his brow and a worried look in his wild eyes. Marie lightly cleared her throat as not to startle him. Instead of the usual small talk, he simply gestured towards the bed and turned to prepare the serum. An exchanged glance proved both found Victor's behaviour to be indicative as to what was to come. Logan closed his eyes and mentally braced himself before Victor came to his side. Soon enough he was unconscious and Victor fidgeted before taking his place across the table from Marie. "This one's real bad" was all he stated before diving into the memory, obviously eager to get this memory over with. "This one took place in 1892, after Nic-Logan and I had moved to the New World. You've probably read about it." Fall River, Massachusetts  
  
August 1892 Nicolas Logan and Victor Creed had done well for themselves since arriving in America two and a half years earlier. Nicolas had grown into a broad shouldered young man and at 13 Victor was now a rather intimidating lad of 6'4". He'd begun to grow a great deal of body hair at a young age earning him the nickname of 'Sabertooth.' He was also rumoured to have the temperament of the ancient cat bearing the same name. Nicolas had grown out of childhood when they'd arrived on American soil and had committed to making his brother's life turn out well. He'd originally taken a job working in a shirtwaist factory in the middle of New York City. Unable to keep up production with men twice his age, a supervisor, who'd taken a liking to him, found him a new job working as a farmhand in a small town in Massachusetts. Nicolas had seized the opportunity and after years of hard work, he had managed to buy his own modest farm outside of Fall River. During this time, Nicolas had struggled with being both a brother and a father to Victor. The teen hadn't taken kindly to that. Despite his brother's protests Victor had dropped out of school and spent all his time outside of the home with the kids Nicolas referred to as the 'River Rats. After a hard day labouring in the fields Nicolas didn't have the strength to argue with his brother. Not having experienced a true childhood himself, Nicolas didn't understand teenage rebellion when confronted with it. Though still in his teens himself, he was years beyond his teen counterparts. They two never talked about what happened their final night in England. Nicolas shut it away and tried to move forward each day. Victor seemed to always feel the rage that he had displayed two years ago. He loved his brother, but didn't understand how he could so easily forget the past. It drove a wedge between the two that neither knew how to repair. Victor felt he owed his brother a debt of gratitude and felt the urge to pay him back for all the years he'd broken his back labouring in deplorable conditions. Even now, it wasn't uncommon for Nicolas to work fourteen-hour days in the fields. Even though they were his own fields, Victor felt there had to be an easier and better way of living. As luck would have it, the opportunity arose for such an occasion. An offer Victor couldn't refuse. A woman named Emma Borden sent for Victor and Jarod, an acquaintance that Nicolas didn't approve of. She and her younger sister Elizabeth were both thirty-something spinsters who lived at home with their father Andrew and stepmother Abby. Emma wasn't particularly known for her outgoing personality, so a summons from her was highly unusual. Victor had some misgivings about the meeting, but his gut told him money would somehow be involved, and that took the decision out of his hands. Swanson's Gulch, Massachusetts  
  
2.5 miles East of Fall River Victor and Jarod tied the coach to the hitch in front of Watson's Saloon. Though technically neither was old enough to rightly enter the establishment, it was highly unlikely that anyone would care. Swanson's Gulch was a rough town, crime ridden and corrupt. Two underage boys in a bar were not terribly concerning to anyone. The boys entered the saloon and scanned the place, looking for anyone out of the ordinary. Emma Borden in her crisp blue afternoon dress in the dusty, bar certainly qualified as that. "Madame." Jarod tipped his hat before taking the seat across from the woman.  
  
"Let's get to it. Whada ya want?" Vic asked in his typical no- nonsense manner.  
  
" I can see there's no use in lollygagging with you two." Emma stated, clearly amused by the youngster's bluster.  
  
"I need your help. My father has made a dreadful mistake. He's an old man and I fear he's become senile. He changed his will recently and left everything to my awful stepmother in the event of his death. I want you to make sure that doesn't happen."  
  
"How much?" Victor asked nonplused by the inference.  
  
"I can pay each of you $500."  
  
"One grand or nothin'" Jarod stated.  
  
"$750." Emma stated. "Deal."  
  
"I'll meet you here tomorrow night and show you the plans to the house. I want you to do it three days from now, in the morning. My sister will be gone for the morning, and our maid has the day off. It is imperative you not get yourselves caught. You must be out of the house by noon. Is there anything else you require?"  
  
"Bring the cash first. No cash, no deal." Vic insisted.  
  
Emma nodded and rose to leave. "Good evening, gentleman." The two boys sat there half in disbelieve and half in shock of what had just occurred. Neither had undertaken such a contract, and the fact they both took it so easily spoke volumes. In silence the two unhitched the horses and climbed onto the coach. Not a word was spoken until Jarod turned to Vic to inform him he'd pick him up tomorrow at the same time. Vic just nodded and strode to the house of his brother. "Where've you been Vic?" Nicolas asked.  
  
"Out with Jarod. I know you don't like him, but he's a fair chap" he lied.  
  
"You could still go back to school."  
  
"I know. I'm going to bed." Victor finished. August 4th, 1892  
  
9: 55 AM Vic and Jarod entered the house from the unlocked window in the basement water closet. Given the time frame, they'd opted to each take a victim. Jarod followed Abby upstairs while Victor waited for the return of Andrew. Emma had mentioned that he occasionally returned home early from work. Hopefully, this would prove to be one of those days. Sure enough, Victor soon heard the heavy wooden door creak open, and footsteps lead into what he assumed was the living room. Growing impatient, Victor opened the cellar door and crept up into the main block of the house. From the corner of his eye he could see a form slumped on the sofa. His target in site, Victor attacked. One blow to the head was all it took. He was dead. The other thirteen were unnecessary, and could only be chalked up to brutality. Afterwards Victor returned to the cellar to wait for Jarod. Just as the other boy was descending the stairwell, the door was once again opened. A loud shriek pierced the air followed by a frantic cry of "Someone killed father!" The girl ran out the door, and Jarod hightailed it to the cellar and the two boys made their escape. Jarod and Victor took their coach to Swanson's Gulch. Again it was a silent journey, though this would be their final moments together, neither felt capable of uttering anything. As had been previously requested, Jarod dropped Victor off at the post office, and he himself continued on upstate. After sending a letter, Victor boarded a westbound train, and left Fall River behind him for good. Two days later, a letter arrived for Nicolas. In it was $300 dollars in cash, and a note. Nic, Can't stay, got into a scrape of trouble. I'm sorry. Love,  
  
VC That was the last Nicolas heard from his brother. Heartbroken, he sold the farm and headed out to start a new life. Alone.  
  
Historical Notes: Lizzy Borden was charged with the murder of her father Andrew and stepmother Abby in August of 1892. Her trial took place in the spring of 1893. The prosecution argued that Lizzy had plenty of motives for murdering them. In the event of their deaths, Lizzy and her sister Emma would inherit her father's impressive estate. Lizzy was also known to have a keen dislike and jealousy of Abby. Though her father doted on her, she was also said to have harbored feelings of ill will toward her father, and referred to her home as `an unbearable prison.'  
  
Emma's whereabouts at the time of the murder were unknown. She was said to be staying at an aunt's house east of Fall River. Lizzy was acquitted in 1893, and to this day the case is unsolved. 


	6. In the Name of the Father

*** Disclaimer in Part one *** 

Previous Parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com 

The events in this chapter, as the ones before it are historically accurate. More detailed notes can be found at the bottom of the story.  
**Many thanks:** to Karen for the superb beta. 

***************

  
Victor's Lab:  
Present Day 

Logan had spent the entire night contemplating several things. His past, present, future, and how it all tied together. Victor had been able to give him what nobody had before which was his past. But now that he'd seen some of it, he honestly couldn't say if it was better left unsaid, or out in the open. He thanked God, Zeus, and Allah collectively for sending him Marie. Without her support, it would be impossible to undergo this journey. 

Turning his thoughts to Marie, he wondered how she saw him exactly. He envisioned himself getting down on one knee, popping the question, marrying her and having a couple of rug rats, but if she didn't feel the same, obviously it wouldn't work. Sure, it was early in the game for those thoughts, but just that fact he thought them had to account for something right? 

Too tired to think anymore he pulled her closer and enjoyed her soothing presence before drifting into a light sleep. Tomorrow would bring more shadows and darkness. He needed to conserve his strength for the coming mental anguish. 

Upon exiting the back room, Logan and Marie found Victor pacing restlessly, a frown creasing his brow and a worried look in his wild eyes. Marie lightly cleared her throat as not to startle him. Instead of the usual small talk, he simply gestured towards the bed and turned to prepare the serum. 

An exchanged glance proved both found Victor's behaviour to be indicative as to what was to come. Logan closed his eyes and mentally braced himself before Victor came to his side. Soon enough he was unconscious and Victor fidgeted before taking his place across the table from Marie. 

"This one's real bad" was all he stated before diving into the memory, obviously eager to get this memory over with. 

"This one took place in 1892, after Nic-Logan and I had moved to the New World. You've probably read about it." 

**Fall River, Massachusetts**  
August 1892 

Nicolas Logan and Victor Creed had done well for themselves since arriving in America two and a half years earlier. Nicolas had grown into a broad shouldered young man and at 13 Victor was now a rather intimidating lad of 6'4". He'd begun to grow a great deal of body hair at a young age earning him the nickname of 'Sabertooth.' He was also rumoured to have the temperament of the ancient cat bearing the same name. 

Nicolas had grown out of childhood when they'd arrived on American soil and had committed to making his brother's life turn out well. He'd originally taken a job working in a shirtwaist factory in the middle of New York City. Unable to keep up production with men twice his age, a supervisor, who'd taken a liking to him, found him a new job working as a farmhand in a small town in Massachusetts. 

Nicolas had seized the opportunity and after years of hard work, he had managed to buy his own modest farm outside of Fall River. During this time, Nicolas had struggled with being both a brother and a father to Victor. The teen hadn't taken kindly to that. Despite his brother's protests Victor had dropped out of school and spent all his time outside of the home with the kids Nicolas referred to as the 'River Rats. 

After a hard day labouring in the fields Nicolas didn't have the strength to argue with his brother. Not having experienced a true childhood himself, Nicolas didn't understand teenage rebellion when confronted with it. Though still in his teens himself, he was years beyond his teen counterparts. 

They two never talked about what happened their final night in England. Nicolas shut it away and tried to move forward each day. Victor seemed to always feel the rage that he had displayed two years ago. He loved his brother, but didn't understand how he could so easily forget the past. It drove a wedge between the two that neither knew how to repair. 

Victor felt he owed his brother a debt of gratitude and felt the urge to pay him back for all the years he'd broken his back labouring in deplorable conditions. Even now, it wasn't uncommon for Nicolas to work fourteen-hour days in the fields. Even though they were his own fields, Victor felt there had to be an easier and better way of living. As luck would have it, the opportunity arose for such an occasion. An offer Victor couldn't refuse. 

A woman named Emma Borden sent for Victor and Jarod, an acquaintance that Nicolas didn't approve of. She and her younger sister Elizabeth were both thirty-something spinsters who lived at home with their father Andrew and stepmother Abby. Emma wasn't particularly known for her outgoing personality, so a summons from her was highly unusual. Victor had some misgivings about the meeting, but his gut told him money would somehow be involved, and that took the decision out of his hands. 

**Swanson's Gulch, Massachusetts**  
2.5 miles East of Fall River 

Victor and Jarod tied the coach to the hitch in front of Watson's Saloon. Though technically neither was old enough to rightly enter the establishment, it was highly unlikely that anyone would care. Swanson's Gulch was a rough town, crime ridden and corrupt. Two underage boys in a bar were not terribly concerning to anyone. The boys entered the saloon and scanned the place, looking for anyone out of the ordinary. Emma Borden in her crisp blue afternoon dress in the dusty, bar certainly qualified as that. 

"Madame." Jarod tipped his hat before taking the seat across from the woman.   
  


"Let's get to it. Whada ya want?" Vic asked in his typical no- nonsense manner.   
  


" I can see there's no use in lollygagging with you two." Emma stated, clearly amused by the youngster's bluster.   
  


"I need your help. My father has made a dreadful mistake. He's an old man and I fear he's become senile. He changed his will recently and left everything to my awful stepmother in the event of his death. I want you to make sure that doesn't happen."   
  


"How much?" Victor asked nonplused by the inference.   
  


"I can pay each of you $500."   
  


"One grand or nothin'" Jarod stated.   
  


"$750." Emma stated.

"Deal."   
  


"I'll meet you here tomorrow night and show you the plans to the house. I want you to do it three days from now, in the morning. My sister will be gone for the morning, and our maid has the day off. It is imperative you not get yourselves caught. You must be out of the house by noon. Is there anything else you require?"   
  


"Bring the cash first. No cash, no deal." Vic insisted. 

  
Emma nodded and rose to leave. "Good evening, gentleman." 

The two boys sat there half in disbelieve and half in shock of what had just occurred. Neither had undertaken such a contract, and the fact they both took it so easily spoke volumes. In silence the two unhitched the horses and climbed onto the coach. Not a word was spoken until Jarod turned to Vic to inform him he'd pick him up tomorrow at the same time. Vic just nodded and strode to the house of his brother. 

"Where've you been Vic?" Nicolas asked.   
  


"Out with Jarod. I know you don't like him, but he's a fair chap" he lied.   
  


"You could still go back to school."   
  


"I know. I'm going to bed." Victor finished. 

**August 4th, 1892**  
9: 55 AM 

Vic and Jarod entered the house from the unlocked window in the basement water closet. Given the time frame, they'd opted to each take a victim. Jarod followed Abby upstairs while Victor waited for the return of Andrew. Emma had mentioned that he occasionally returned home early from work. Hopefully, this would prove to be one of those days. Sure enough, Victor soon heard the heavy wooden door creak open, and footsteps lead into what he assumed was the living room. Growing impatient, Victor opened the cellar door and crept up into the main block of the house. From the corner of his eye he could see a form slumped on the sofa. His target in site, Victor attacked. 

One blow to the head was all it took. He was dead. The other thirteen were unnecessary, and could only be chalked up to brutality. Afterwards Victor returned to the cellar to wait for Jarod. Just as the other boy was descending the stairwell, the door was once again opened. A loud shriek pierced the air followed by a frantic cry of "Someone killed father!" The girl ran out the door, and Jarod hightailed it to the cellar and the two boys made their escape. 

Jarod and Victor took their coach to Swanson's Gulch. Again it was a silent journey, though this would be their final moments together, neither felt capable of uttering anything. As had been previously requested, Jarod dropped Victor off at the post office, and he himself continued on upstate. After sending a letter, Victor boarded a westbound train, and left Fall River behind him for good. 

Two days later, a letter arrived for Nicolas. In it was $300 dollars in cash, and a note. 

Nic, 

Can't stay, got into a scrape of trouble. I'm sorry. 

Love,   
VC 

That was the last Nicolas heard from his brother. Heartbroken, he sold the farm and headed out to start a new life. Alone. 

* * *

**Historical Notes: **

Lizzy Borden was charged with the murder of her father Andrew and stepmother Abby in August of 1892. Her trial took place in the spring of 1893. The prosecution argued that Lizzy had plenty of motives for murdering them. In the event of their deaths, Lizzy and her sister Emma would inherit her father's impressive estate. 

Lizzy was also known to have a keen dislike and jealousy of Abby. Though her father doted on her, she was also said to have harbored feelings of ill will toward her father, and referred to her home as `an unbearable prison.' 

Emma's whereabouts at the time of the murder were unknown. She was said to be staying at an aunt's house east of Fall River. 

Lizzy was acquitted in 1893, and to this day the case is unsolved. 


	7. This Thing of Ours

Title: This Thing of Ours  
  
Series: Through the Years 7/25  
  
* Disclaimer in part one*   
  
Previous instalments can be found at www.autumnpenguins.com  
  
  
  
A/N: As you can tell by the tone of this series it is a dark, dark story,  
  
that being said, this is probably the lightest, happiest chapter in the  
  
series. And as with its predecessors, this story has historical figures and  
  
events in it. This time around it is Johnny Torrio that figures heavily in  
  
the plot. Torrio was the leader of the Five Points Gang in Manhattan, they  
  
later became known as the notorious La Cosa Nostra (it means 'this thing of  
  
ours').   
  
Thanks to Karen and Jonas for their continued help on what will be an epic  
  
length story.  
  
**********  
  
  
  
Victor's Lab,  
  
Present day.........  
  
Logan, and Marie crept into the now familiar lab setting. It had  
  
been three days since they had been in here as Logan tried to process his  
  
regained childhood memories. All he had ever known was death and sadness.  
  
If was comforting to know there had been one bright spot in his life, his  
  
brother. Logan had pushed down his secret longing for a family years ago, because  
  
thinking about how alone he was brought him nothing but misery. But now, he  
  
had a family. His brother was Sabertooth, the same man he had been attacked  
  
by and fought less than a year ago.  
  
But something had changed inside him over the months. He didn't have  
  
a hateful glint in his eyes anymore; it had been replaced by a quiet  
  
sadness. His shoulders were no longer proud and broad, but now carried the  
  
weight of the world. Logan didn't know what to think honestly, he was bound  
  
by blood to the man, but he didn't really know much about him. Of three  
  
encounters with him, two had been violent.   
  
His head spinning already, Logan decided to push his conflicted  
  
family thoughts back and focus on what he had been brought here to learn.  
  
"All set?" Victor asked as Logan and Marie entered the room, gloved hands clasped.   
  
"Yeah." Logan said as he settled himself onto the gurney, ready for  
  
whatever was to come his way.   
  
"How do you know that you're dosing him in order?" Marie asked.  
  
"It's color-coded, Erik designed it that way when he copied the  
  
formula. The older the memory, the more serum is needed. Some of them are  
  
only a few years apart, but there's enough of a difference to tell." Victor  
  
answered as he searched through the vials.   
  
When he selected the proper dosage, and once Logan was secured, he  
  
plunged the needle into his vein and waited for it to do its work. Marie  
  
and Victor busied themselves making tea and a bite for breakfast, oddly  
  
comforted in each other's company. Victor had already lived each of the  
  
memories, and knew Logan's story as well as his own. They sat down and  
  
Victor dove into the tale once again.  
  
"When Nicolas-Logan and I split, I went back to New York and he  
  
ended up in Concord, Massachusetts." Victor began, taking them both years  
  
back into the past.  
Concord, Massachusetts  
  
May, 1900   
  
Nicolas Logan had started a new life for himself. He'd moved from  
  
Fall River eight years ago and had established himself as a hard worker.  
  
He'd become an errand boy for an elderly man who ran a mom and pop grocery.  
  
When the man had died five years ago, Nicolas inherited the store. He'd  
  
kept the little corner shop exactly as it had been when Mr. Kayson owned it  
  
and had retained most of the clientele as well. The result was that Nicolas  
  
found himself living comfortably for the first time in his life.   
He tried hard to put Victor out of his mind, but no matter what he  
  
did it never seemed to work. In his mind he always saw the little boy who'd  
  
been crying in the bathroom in 1889. It seemed like a lifetime ago. His  
  
life had changed so much in some aspects, but he was still in an emotional  
  
hellhole most of the time. But now he had his own store, he owned his own  
  
house, and it wasn't in a slum or outside of town. He'd scrapped through  
  
and was finally out of the red. Why shouldn't he enjoy life now when he had  
  
been so miserable? Why shouldn't he have a family and fine whiskey and, all  
  
the things that a fine and respected young gentleman of the age should be  
  
entitled to?   
  
He was 23 and he wasn't getting any younger. He had a successful  
  
business and a house big enough for a wife and some children. There was  
  
nothing to stop him; Nicolas was determined to get himself a family. Now  
  
all he needed was to find himself a suitable wife, someone he could love and  
  
have a family with. Someone to spend the rest of his life with.  
  
Immediately one face popped into his mind. A girl he'd seen in his store  
  
frequently since he began working there. Lauren Ginnley.   
  
She had to be at least seventeen now, making her of marriageable age.  
  
He'd seen her taking care of her younger siblings when the family came into  
  
the store so he knew she was good with children. Lauren was sweet, not too shy and pretty in her own way. Nicolas thought she liked him, at least  
  
a little, after all she always talked to him no matter what it was she came  
  
in for. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. All he  
  
had left to do was convince her to marry him.  
That thought firmly implanted in his mind Nicolas dressed and walked  
  
the ten minutes to his store. He unlocked the door and busied himself with  
  
the morning tasks. When the till was in order and his ledger was balanced,  
  
Nicolas looked up and was surprised to see the object of his recent thoughts  
  
standing in front of him.   
  
"Miss Ginnley." He began, bowing his head, "I didn't hear you come  
  
in."   
  
"You looked busy, I didn't want to bother you."   
  
"You could never be a bother," he said sincerely.   
  
She smiled and her cheeks reddened. They stared at one another for  
  
a second too long. "What can I get for you this morning?" Nicolas asked.  
  
"Well Mr. Logan, I would like to place a special order."   
  
"What's the occasion?"   
  
"My sister Margaret is getting married in two months, and she wants  
  
to serve oranges at her reception." Lauren said.   
  
"Oranges? Mighty extravagant isn't it?" Nicolas quipped.   
  
"Well, Margaret will settle for nothing but the best." Lauren  
  
grinned.   
  
"Then what are you going to have at your wedding m'am?"  
  
"I haven't even thought about that yet." Lauren answered.  
  
"Well, let me know then when you decide." Nicolas grinned.  
  
"Will do. Now, about the oranges. Would it be impossible to order  
  
five dozen?"   
  
"That's a tall order. But I'm sure we can arrange that. When do you  
  
need them?"   
  
"July 12th. And if you can order them, I'll even pick them up  
  
myself," she teased.   
  
"I'll have to do my best then. I'll let you know the status the next  
  
time I see you."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Logan."  
  
"Good Day, Miss Ginnley." Nicolas nodded as she walked out the door.  
December 1900  
  
Lower East End, Manhattan  
Victor Creed had grown used to a rough life. He was toughened  
  
inside and out nowadays. There was nothing he wasn't ready to deal with,  
  
and nothing he couldn't do. He was a hardass in the truest sense of the  
  
word. He was the only Englishman living in Little Italy who wasn't hassled  
  
for simply stepping into their little world. The locals knew he was as  
  
tough as any of the neighborhood men. He could take anyone and anything,  
  
the name Sabertooth stuck with him when a five year old had compared him to  
  
the creature in his dinosaur book.   
  
Victor liked it that way; he'd rather be feared than have people  
  
like him. He wasn't close to anyone and he didn't intend to be. Life was  
  
easier without any attachments; he'd learned that at thirteen. The attachment he  
  
did have almost made him stay in Fall River eight years ago. He'd committed  
  
his second murder there and had still been an amateur. Now he was seasoned  
  
much more and knew the first rule in life was to not get attached.  
  
Everything eventually changed; it was just easier to deal with it that way.  
He didn't want anything more out of life than to survive. It had  
  
been how he'd lived for as long as he could remember. But now an opportunity arose  
  
that he couldn't decline. He'd personally been invited to a meeting with  
  
the new set of movers and shakers. Victor didn't know quite what to expect.  
  
He knew enough to know it was about some sort of gang, but he wasn't  
  
familiar with the internal going-ons. He'd always worked alone, save that  
  
one time with Jarod.   
  
But still, an opportunity was an opportunity so he straightened  
  
himself up and knocked on the door. A short man answered the door. "Come on  
  
in, we've heard of your talents." From the sound of his voice, the speaker  
  
was Irish.   
  
"Paul Kelly, this is the man they call Sabertooth," a smoky voice  
  
with a hint of accent said from the corner of the room.   
  
"Sabertooth, this is Paul Kelly. As for me, I'm Johnny Torrio. I  
  
think we're destined to be great friends." Johnny said, his gaze locked on  
  
Victor's features.  
  
  
  
Victor made the first move towards Johnny and extended his arm as a  
  
gesture of acceptance. Johnny shook it and Sabertooth was in.  
Victor's Lab  
  
Present Day.........  
  
  
  
Logan was still sleeping on the gurney as Victor finished telling  
  
Marie the latest chapter in their life story.   
  
"So Logan got the girl?" Marie smiled.   
  
"Not Logan, Nicolas. He was different then." Vic said.  
  
"It doesn't matter, I like him exactly how he is. He's special,  
  
Logan is."  
  
"He is one of a kind." Vic consented.   
  
"He looks like he's waking up." Marie said before rising and moving  
  
towards the gurney.   
  
Sure enough, Logan began to stir from his sleep and slowly fought  
  
his way from the darkness. "Hey." He gave her a weak smile.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"That one wasn't too bad." Logan said quietly to Marie.  
  
"Good. Sounds like you had it pretty rough."   
  
"Yeah. But I don't want to think about the past at the moment. And  
  
I'm dying to get out into some fresh air. Do you wanna come with me?"   
  
"Of course. But I want you to rest up there for a little bit, and  
  
eat something before we get going." Marie said.   
  
"You're the boss. What do we have? Better not be any more of those  
  
girly dainty things." Logan teased.   
  
"Well sugar, it's the girly dainty things, or nothing." Marie shot  
  
back.  
  
"Decisions, decisions. Hit me with a girly thing then." Logan said  
  
as he freed himself from the restraints and joined the other two at the  
  
table for an intimate breakfast for three.  
  
********* 


End file.
